


Bathe

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Blood, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Quasi Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Mitsuhide mourns the temporary nature of his ecstasy.
Relationships: Akechi Mitsuhide/Oda Nobunaga
Kudos: 5





	Bathe

Letting the light yukata slip off of his shoulders, Mitsuhide stepped into the heated water and sank down, leaning his back against the edge of the bath as he folded his limbs accordingly. Even alone (sometimes as many as two or three individuals could fit at once) he took up quite a bit of space – being built as long and lanky as a serpent could be inconvenient at times.

He’d already cleaned most of the blood off of him earlier, but as the water slowly turned a very pale shade of pink it became clear that there was more in places he had obviously missed. From shallow cuts, most likely – his Lord was not cautious, per se, but deliberate. Surface wounds and superficial scratches, it was always like that. Just enough to give them both the thrill they craved, and yet no lasting marks would be left. That last bit saddened Mitsuhide, more often than not. 

Sinking lower into the water, he gathered his hair off of the ledge, pulling it over his shoulder and watching absentmindedly as it fanned out, floating in and on top of the water. If he thought hard enough he could almost remember what it had felt like when Nobunaga-kou had wrapped a hand in it and _pulled._

_Will you do it again please my Lord?_

Mitsuhide cupped his hand and brought some of the warm water up and over his bony shoulder, scratching off what remained of the dried blood on his neck, prodding at the healed bite marks just underneath his ear. They’d started to scab and he felt the inexplicable urge to whine petulantly, now knowing that in a few days those marks would be gone and he would only have the memories remaining of the highs that his Lord had sent him to that day. He grit his teeth and dug his nails into his flesh. 

The tips of Mitsuhide’s nails were sharp and pointed like the claws of a cat, and the already-fragile skin gave way as he ripped the slowly clotting wounds back open again, feeling one, then two drops of blood slowly make their way down his throat and over his chest, eventually disappearing into the water, where the rest of him was submerged. Maybe now, now that he’d dug deeper, it would stay, it would scar, something for him to cling to when he had nothing else, when his Lord would not turn those cold eyes his way.


End file.
